The Apocalypse Redux
by ZestyMelon
Summary: While working a case of mysterious disappearances, the Winchesters meet the Doctor. Things get complicated when it turns out someone's got big plans for the Winchesters (again), that may result in the end of the world (again). After all, the Apocalypse deserves a sequel, so here's one with aliens!
1. Invasion of the Body Snatcher(s)?

The Apocalypse was over, Sam had his soul back, and aside from dealing with the civil war in heaven, along with the still unstable situation down in hell, the Winchesters' lives had basically returned to normal. Which, for Sam and Dean, meant sitting around sketchy motel rooms, and searching through the internet trying to find more man-eating monsters to stab. Or maybe shoot, or burn, or behead. It really all depended on the kind of week they were having.

"Okay, listen to this," Sam said from behind his laptop. Dean was, as usual, sprawled out on the bed watching some crappy romcom on HBO. He gave his brother his minimal attention as he rattled of the facts of the new case. "Twenty people missing along the same stretch of highway in the last couple weeks. Some from houses with the doors still locked, a few from school or from work—And get this, one guy from his car, which was driving down a street at the time. Cops found it with the engine still running, and the doors still locked from the inside."

"Alright, sounds like a case. How far we driving for this one?" Dean said, reluctantly turning off the TV.

"Actually, that's the weird thing. Y'know that town we stayed in last?"

"Yeah, what was it, Oak Falls, Missouri? Don't tell me that's where the last disappearances happened."

"Yeah, actually. And it's not just that. Here's some of the other towns: Morgan, Providence, Elk Creek—"

"Those are all towns we've visited in the past few weeks."

"Whatever this thing is, it looks like it's following us," Sam nodded.

"So it's a trap." Dean's face split into a grin. "Excellent. Let's get moving, Sammy!"

Oak Falls was closest, and currently missing 17 year old Jason Head, 40 year old Alicia Goodwin, 32 year old Alex Fox, and 56 year old Frank Myers. A cursory search of the victims' backgrounds hadn't resulted in any connections between them. They had different ages, genders, ethnicities, and religious identifications, and as near as Sam and Dean could tell, the three victims had never met. Interviewing the families only added to the mystery; no one had witnessed the disappearances, but both families reported missing objects in the hours following the disappearances. Nothing important or expensive; most of the objects were old pieces of junk, but all had some sentimental value to the victims. When Sam and Dean returned to their motel room, they felt no closer to solving the case than they did when they first got to town.

"I don't know, man," Dean said, flopping onto his bed. "I've never heard of anything doing something like that. I mean, my best guess would be some sorta vengeful spirit—"

"But that doesn't explain why it's following us, or what significance the victims have," Sam finished for him. He sighed, running his fingers through his hair. "There's gotta be something we can find out. Whatever the thing is, it's after us. If we don't know what we're up against, we're basically sitting ducks."

Sam looked back at the investigation notes Dean had haphazardly thrown up on the motel room wall. He carefully examined the faces of Frank Myers and Alicia Goodwin, the two victims missing from this town so far. Cocking his head to the side, Sam realized something.

"Hey, Dean. Does Goodwin look familiar to you?"

Dean picked his head off the bed, and considered the photo for a minute.

"I don't know, why? She look familiar to you?"

"I think…I'm pretty sure she was our waitress at that diner last time we were in town."

Dean hopped off the bed, and walked up to examine the photos more closely.

"I think you're right. And now that I think about it… I met Myers in a bar one night. Hustled him in pool."

"So two people missing in this town, and they just happen to be people we met? People we talked to?" Sam wasn't liking the implications of that one bit. Dean opened his mouth to respond, when the brothers heard a scream coming from outside.

Without thinking, the two of them scrambled into action, throwing open the door, and booking it in the direction of the scream, Sam with a shotgun in hand. Outside they found a woman Dean recognized as the (exceptionally attractive) young woman who'd checked them in earlier was being attacked by—well, it was certainly something new for the Winchesters. Floating menacingly above the woman was some sick cross between a leech and a mosquito—it's mouth was a pit filled with razor sharp teeth, while it's skinny legs swiped at the woman, and it's four wings kept it floating in midair. It was flying just high enough, Dean realized with a scowl, to keep it out of stabbing distance.

Dean ran to the woman, grabbing her around the waist, and dragging her as far away from the thing as he could manage. Sam, meanwhile, ran out in front of the two of them, pumping the monster full of bullets. For a few seconds, that seemed to do the trick. The monster doubled in on itself, letting out an ear splitting screech, and Sam lowered his gun. Then, the creature righted itself, diving straight for Sam. He managed to roll out of the way, just barely, and shot at it again. This time, the bullets seemed to affect the thing even less, and Sam realized that at this point, he was mainly just annoying the it.

The monster started to close in on him, opening its mouth to display seemingly endless rows of teeth. As it got closer, Sam's vision seemed to stretch and bend around him. He couldn't move. He could just barely hear his brother calling out his name, and then…a strange, unearthly wheezing sound filled the air.

The monster broke away from Sam, and flew off behind him. As Sam felt sensation return to his arms and legs, he turned around to find the thing facing off against what looked like a blue phone booth. A man stepped out of it, and, as the monster began to dive towards him, the man quickly took out a glowing green device. It let out a high pitched buzzing noise that stopped the creature in its tracks, and, after a few seconds of this, the monster backed away, literally disappearing from the parking lot in a great ball of sparks.

The man smiled to himself, pocketing the device just as a young woman stepped out of the blue box to join him. Then, acting as if everything that had just happened was perfectly normal, the two of them walked up to Sam.

"Hello!" the man said cheerily. "I'm the Doctor, this is Clara. And who might you be?"

Was the last thing Sam heard before his head hit the pavement.


	2. Everyone, Meet Everyone

Author's Note: Just to clarify, this takes place somewhere during Season 6 of _Supernatural_, and between Name and Day of the Doctor for _Doctor_ _Who_. But, it takes place in a weird alternate reality that moves the SPN timeline up a few years. So, instead of stopping the Apocalypse in 2009, the Winchesters stopped it in 2012. This is done to keep the timelines of both shows make a bit more sense together, and because it means the Mayans were right about the end of the world. Or, would have been right if it wasn't for those meddling Winchesters. Which I find funny. You can too, if you want.

* * *

When Sam woke up, he found himself in his bed back in the motel room, and saw Dean sitting in a chair next to him with a shotgun on his lap. With a small groan, Sam sat up.

"Morning, princess," Dean said.

Sam rolled his eyes. "How long was I out?"

Dean glanced down at his watch. "Not long, just about twenty minutes."

"Well, what happened? I mean, I remember the monster leaving, and… Where's the receptionist? And those two people?"

"Well, I managed to send the receptionist home. She was pretty freaked, but I gave her my number in case she needs anything. Y'know, protection, comfort—"

Sam rolled his eyes.

"What?" Dean said with almost enough indignation to sound convincing. "Anyway, about those other two—well, heads up, we've got company."

Dean nodded to the other side of the room. Sam turned around to find the two people from earlier—the Doctor and Clara, he remembered—tied back to back on a couple chairs, and gagged for good measure. Sam groaned. That explained the shotgun Dean was holding, anyway.

"Did you really have to do that?" Sam asked his brother. "The guy did just save us."

"Yeah? Well the guy also happened to appear outta nowhere in a big wooden box along with his little friend there, and seemed to have that freaky monster on remote control. Now, odds are, the two of them ain't human, and I'm betting they have something to do with the disappearances."

Dean stood up, made his way over to the two, and roughly removed their gags.

"So before I take any drastic measures that might result in bullets in each of their noggins, they better start talking."

Clara, at least, looked reasonably scared. The Doctor, on the other hand, rolled his jaw a bit, and gave both Winchesters a wide grin.

"Lovely!" he said. "Bit of chit chat, we'll have this mess sorted out before you can say—"

"Shut up," Dean barked at him. "I ask, you answer. Got that?"

Clara nodded immediately, while the Doctor rolled his eyes, letting out a grumbled, "Yes."

"Great," Dean said. "Let's start with names. Who are you?"

"Clara Oswald," the woman said. "And this is the Doctor."

Dean let out a humorless laugh. "That ain't a name."

"Course it's a name," the Doctor said. "It's my name."

Dean stepped forward, ready to smack that cocky grin off the guy's face.

"Dean, just leave it. Their names aren't important right now," Sam said. He stood up, walking over to stand next to his brother. "A better question's this: what are you guys?"

"Erm, an English teacher?" Clara volunteered. "I'm due to start this fall—"

"Not that," Dean interrupted. "I want a species."

"Human," Clara answered, looking a bit offended.

"Sure you are," Dean said. He looked over to the Doctor, who had been remarkably silent in the last few seconds. Dean barely knew the guy, but he could tell the Doc there was the kinda guy who never shut up. "What about you, Bowtie? You just a harmless little human too?"

The Doctor looked up to meet his gaze. "You know, I don't generally like to give away personal information from the mouth of a gun."

Dean looked to his brother and nodded. Sam pulled out a suitcase, and came back with some holy water and a silver knife. Dean took the water and splashed it into the Doctor and Clara's faces. Clara looked outraged, and the Doctor rather bemused, but other than that, there was no reaction. Sam raised the silver knife, pricking the two of them.

"Well," Sam said when he got no more than a couple of ows. "They're not demons, and they're not shifters. Think they're telling the truth?"

Dean glared at him. "Humans can't just appear outta nowhere like that."

"You two are quite thick, aren't you?" the Doctor said, earning a couple dangerous looks from the Winchesters.

"Doctor!" Clara said, trying to shut him up.

"Well they are!" he replied to each other. He looked back at the brothers. "You've asked who we are, and what we are. But you haven't asked the most important question."

Sam and Dean were silent.

"Oh, honestly!" the Doctor exclaimed. "You haven't asked what we're doing here."

Dean was looking more and more pissed off, so Sam took it upon himself to respond.

"Okay, then. What are you doing here?"

"Ah, so you're the smart one!" the Doctor said happily. "Well, Clara and I were planning on a little holiday, but something about this area caught my attention."

"What was that?" Sam asked him.

"Strange readings. Anomalies in time, things my ship picked up. Well, I had to find out what that was about, didn't I? So I looked around, and found out each of the anomalies corresponded to a disappearance in town, so when another showed up on my scanner, Clara and I materialized to try and prevent anyone else from going missing. Lucky we did, eh?"

"Hold on, back up. Ship? What ship?" Dean said, stepping forward a bit.

"Glad you asked," the Doctor said smiling. "The TARDIS, my space/time ship."

"Your space/time ship?" Dean said skeptically.

"Best in the universe," the Doctor informed him proudly.

"So you two are, what, time travellers?" Sam asked.

"You don't believe us. Course you don't," Clara said. "But we could call up Angie and Artie for you, they have loads of blackmail—I mean, evidence. I know, time travel, it sounds bonkers. I hardly believe it myself, but if you just let—"

"Lady, I've got no problem believing in time travel. I just have a problem believing a couple of humans can manage it, at least without any help."

"Well then it's a good thing I'm an alien," the Doctor said. The whole room went silent.

After several seconds of the Winchesters staring incredulously at the Doctor, it was Dean who regained his composure enough to break the silence.

"Are you shitting me?"

"Am I—come again?" the Doctor said.

"You're trying to tell me you're an alien. An alien?" Dean went on.

"Well, yes," the Doctor replied. "An alien, you know, like E.T. or Signs, or The Lonely Martian? Or has that last one not come out yet?"

"You can't be an alien," Sam said incredulously.

"Why not?"

"Well because—I mean—aliens are—You look human!" he spluttered.

"My lot came first."

"Nah. Whatever you are, you're not an alien," Dean said. "You're just some other supernatural freak to kill. Only reason we haven't yet is 'cause you might know something about the disappearances."

"Supernatural?" That caught the Doctor's attention. "Fascinating. You think I'm some sort of ghost or goblin?"

"Something like that," Dean said, frowning as the Doctor smiled at his answer.

"You come across a lot of supernatural creatures then?"

The Winchesters nodded.

"Well then, I'd like you two to take a look at my spaceship outside. Hazarding a guess, none of the creatures you've come across have anything like it."

"I bet you'd like that," said Dean. "We walk into your magic box, some trap goes off and kills the two of us, is that how it is?"

"Not at all," the Doctor said sincerely. "You two die, we two end up stuck here. Besides, it only takes one of you to check it out."

"Fine," said Dean. "Sam, you stay here. If I'm not back in five, kill these guys."

"Not very nice, is he?" the Doctor whispered to Clara.

"He's got a gun. I don't think he needs to be nice."

Dean walked out, leaving Sam alone with the two of them.

"You seem to trust us," the Doctor said to him. "More than your friend, anyway."

"Brother, actually," Sam corrected him automatically. "Takes a while to get Dean to trust you. Me? Well, once you save my life, I'm willing to give you the benefit of the doubt."

"So you do believe us?" Clara said. "That the Doctor's an alien?"

"Wouldn't be the craziest thing I've seen, even if I'm just counting today. What was that thing from earlier?"

"Truthfully, I'm not sure," said the Doctor. "I've a few ideas on what it could be, but the behavior patterns don't fit any creature I'm aware of." The Doctor briefly glanced up at the case notes still hanging on the wall. "You're investigating, though. What have you found? There could be something you caught that I missed—unlikely, but all the same."

Sam gave him a brief run through of what he and Dean had discovered so far—the two victims, the missing trinkets, the lack of any evidence. The Doctor listened with a frown on his face.

"Two victims?" the Doctor said once Sam had finished. "Weren't there more?"

Sam shook his head. "Dean and I made sure. Alicia Goodwin and Frank Myers are the only two mysterious disappearances in the last couple weeks."

"That's interesting," said the Doctor.

"Why's that?" Sam asked.

"Because when I first arrived to town, there were four victims. The longer I've been here, the less there are."

"That's not possible."

"Do the names Jason Head and Alex Fox mean anything to you?"

Sam wanted to answer no, he'd never heard those names in his life. But there was something about them that gave him a weird feeling of déjà vu.

""How could that…?" Sam ran his fingers through his hair.

"Makes you think, doesn't it?" the Doctor said.

"So the thing doesn't just make people disappear, it erases memories too?" Clara asked.

"Seems so," the Doctor answered her.

"Damn," said Sam. "It's a good thing you killed it. How'd you manage that, anyway?"

"Ah," said the Doctor. "Bad news, actually. I didn't kill it. And it's bound to come back."

"What? But I saw you, you shot it with that laser thing."

"Sonic screwdriver," the Doctor informed him. "And all I really did was…nudge it a bit."

"Nudge it?" Sam repeated.

"It's unstable in this time and place. The creature can exist here for brief periods of time, but destabilizing with a bit of sonic technology can put it off balance- send it back where it came from."

"When will it be back?" Sam asked.

"No idea," the Doctor said brightly. "I'm sure will cross that bridge when we get to it!"

Now properly spooked, Sam and Clara both jumped as the motel door was flung open. Fortunately, it was Dean rather than the creature who stepped through the door.

"So?" Sam prompted him.

"I still don't know for sure they're telling the truth," Dean began.

"But?" Sam said.

"But that thing out there is straight up Star Trek. Right now, alien's the best guess I got."

"Does that mean you can untie us now?" Clara asked hopefully. Dean looked ready to protest, but Sam answered before he could.

"We have to. Look, Dean, the Doctor here says that thing could be back any minute."

"I thought you killed it?" Dean aimed at the Doctor, while Sam untied the Doctor and Clara from their chairs.

"Not exactly," the Doctor answered, standing up with a stretch. He rubbed his hands together. "I think now's a good time for us to come up with a plan!"

"Us?" said Dean. "No way, there's no us. Just me and my brother."

"Technically, that's—" said Clara.

"The two of us stopped the Apocalypse together, we can sure as hell take on one bug-eyed monster."

"You did what?" the Doctor asked in a tone so full of dread, everyone stopped to give him their full attention. "The Apocalypse? You stopped—wait a minute, what year is it?"

"2013, why?" Dean answered him.

"Sam and Dean," the Doctor muttered to himself as he began to pace. Clara sighed.

"Doctor, our lives are in danger already, and now you've got your things-are-going-to-get-a-whole-lot-worse face on. What do you know?" she asked. The Doctor stopped, and looked her squarely in the face.

"I know what that thing is, and I know what it wants," he said. "And you're right, Clara, things are about to get much, much worse.


	3. Things Get Worse

"Oh dear, I'm afraid this is extremely very not good," the Doctor said, running a hand over his face.

"So you know what it is?" Clara asked.

"It's an Ooffrairtfidibleheeg."

"An oo-fart-beetle…what?" Dean said, exasperated.

"What does that mean for us, exactly?" Sam pressed.

"It's…" the Doctor said, gesturing wildly with his hands as if it might help, "Disinfectant. The timeline's gone all messy, it's here to clean it up."

"The hell's that supposed to mean? It's eating people, that's not cleaning up anything!" Dean said. The Doctor, looking frustrated, tried to explain.

"But it's not eating people. It's undoing them, winding their lives back and back again until there's nothing left. No personal belongings, no friends—"

"And eventually, not even a memory," Clara said in realization.

"'Exactly."

"Eating, undoing. To-ma-to, to-mah-to, right? We still gotta stop it," Dean said, extremely unimpressed.

"The only way to stop it is to let them find their targets. You two," the Doctor said.

"What? No way I'm letting that lame son of a bitch eat me!"

"Dean—" Sam started in an attempt to calm his brother down.

"Oh, c'mon, Sammy. We survive the Apocalypse, and you're okay with letting some cheap Halloween decoration be the end of us?"

"Don't you see, though? That's the problem," the Doctor said urgently.

"Halloween's months from now," Sam informed him.

"Not that, the Apocalypse."

"If they wanna join in on the Apocalypse, they're already too late," Dean said, by all accounts rather proudly.

"No! Not- Would all of you just shut up? You two stopped the Apocalypse! That's a fixed point in time! You broke the laws of the universe, and that monster is here to clean up your mess!"

"I thought Lysol over there wanted to eat us," Dean said.

"Unwind you! Is anybody listening to me?"

"Not likely," Clara said, without a trace of sympathy.

"Oh! It wants to rewind us back to the Apocalypse so we can say yes to Michael and Lucifer!" Sam said suddenly.

"Knew I could count on you, Sam."

Dean looked back and forth between his brother and the Doctor, trying to make sense of what both of them were on about.

"Hang on, what?" Dean said, directing his question to Sam.

"Don't you see, Dean? If that thing—"

"I'mma call it Lysol."

"…Fine. If Lysol's here to clean up our mistake, and if stopping the Apocalypse is what started the mess in the first place—"

"It's gonna zap our asses back in time to get that show back on the road," Dean realized.

"But I thought Lysol unwound entire lives?"

"Usually, the Ooffrairtfidibleheeg don't," said the Doctor. "They just send people back in time far enough to set the timeline straight. That's why I didn't recognize what we were up against at first. Choosing victims nearly at random—That's highly unusual behavior."

"That's nice. How do we kill it?" Dean said, trying to get down to business. The Doctor was silent, suddenly examining his shoes with some intensity.

"Doctor?" Clara prompted him. He looked up at the group solemnly.

"We let it carry out its original intention. We let it devour you lot."

"You kidding me? Never mind the fact that it could kill us, this could mean restarting the Apocalypse!" Dean said.

"I know," the Doctor responded.

"You what?" Clara asked.

"Like I already said, the Apocalypse is a fixed point in time. It needs to happen anyway, we may as well just let… Lysol there…do its job."

"Hell no."

"Dean, you must understand, I—"

"No, you listen to me. After everything we've been through, we are not just gonna roll over and give in. Half the planet'll be torched, we can't let that happen! Why the hell are you okay with that anyway?"

"I never said I was okay with it. That's just the way it has to be."

"You can't mean that," Clara said.

"Clara, I—"

"All the people who could end up dead? My dad, Angie, Artie—"

"They might not all—"

"And what about all your friends, Doctor? I know you still have friends living on Earth, you're just going to let all of them die?"

"No, hang on. The human race will still live on! Many will die, but the survivors—Those people will accomplish enormous good for the universe! They'll be the start of a great human empire that will stretch across four galaxies, bringing countless worlds into a new age of peace and—"

"Forget that right now! All the people about to die, couldn't they bring about a better future too?" Clara tried reasoning with him.

"Sometimes the darkest tragedies bring out the most good in people. This disaster will bring the entire human race together; it'll be an era of cooperation unparalleled in all of history. The amount of good that comes out of it all—"

"Cut the crap. Letting all those people die is wrong and you know it," Dean said, glaring at him.

"If you'd just consider what will happen—"

"What, space rainbows and unicorns a few centuries from now? None of that's gonna matter to me. All I'm gonna see is billions of people all across the world dying in a war they can't possibly understand. I'm gonna see families ripped apart, I'm gonna see the damn Devil take control of my brother, and be forced to watch as Michael uses my body to kill him. That's what I know the Apocalypse means, not some sorta sci-fi utopia a million years from now. And I'mma do everything in my power to stop it"

"And I can't help you with that," the Doctor said softly.

"You can't? Course you can!" Clara said in her best I'm-the-boss-now tone.

"Clara."

"I can't just stand by and watch half the world burn!"

"Then don't."

That took Clara by surprise for a moment. "What?"

"I'm not stopping you. Any of you. If you want to fight this, go ahead, but it's ultimately pointless. That creature can't be killed, tricked, or captured." The Doctor considered this last statement for a bit before adding, "At least not by three humans."

"Yeah? Well we spend a lot of our time doing things guys like you say we can't. We'll get through this like we always do, by fightin' like hell!" Dean said, puffing out his chest.

"I'll help you," said Clara.

"That's nice, but we really don't need you to—" Dean started before Clara shot a dangerous glare at him.

"You're fighting a time-y alien thing. Time-y alien things are totally my department. You need my help, whether you like it or not."

"Dude, I'm not fighting her on this," Sam told his brother with some amusement.

"Fine. We probably need everyone we can get on this anyway," Dean said reluctantly.

"I'll call Bobby, see if he has any ideas on how to fight this thing," Sam added helpfully. "If the Doc's seen it, maybe it shows up in some of the lore."

"It's worth a shot. I'll call Cas, too. We're gonna need him on this."

"Doctor, you sure you won't help us?" Clara said, grabbing his arm. The Doctor took one last look at the group. For a second, Clara hoped he would reconsider, but he turned his back to them, and swaggered off in the direction of the TARDIS.

"You know how to get in touch," the Doctor called over his shoulder. "Let me know when all of this is over, Clara, and I'll take you home. I owe you that."

"What are you going to do?" she called after him.

"To wait."

The three humans looked at each other, all of the suddenly feeling quite unsure of themselves.

"Good to have his vote of confidence," Dean smirked. Sam gave an uneasy laugh, and glanced over at Clara. She, at least, seemed to find no humor in their situation.

"You alright?" Sam asked her.

"I thought I knew him, I thought—," Clara paused to collect herself. "Doesn't matter. We have work to do."


	4. Finally, a Plan!

Sam hung up his phone.

"Just finished talking to Bobby," he said. "He said he'll check the lore for something like Lysol, but it didn't remind him of anything he's ever heard of before. Even if he can find anything about it, it's gonna take time."

"Makes sense," added Clara. "If Lysol erases people instead of killing them, odds are no one remembers it."

"Hear anything from Cas?" Sam asked his brother.

"Nothing," Dean said. He scowled. "He hasn't really been in a helpful mood lately."

"Well he's got a lot on his plate," Sam reasoned. "Hopefully, the fact that he hasn't showed up means that Lysol is something we can handle on our own."

"Great. So we have a time travelling alien on our asses, with no info, and no idea how to fight it," Dean ran down.

"Maybe some idea," Clara said cheekily, and pulled the Doctor's screwdriver from her jacket pocket.

"Where'd you get that from?" Sam asked.

"Careful, dear. I'm not just a pretty face," she said. "I picked it off him when he mentioned leaving. Thought it might come in handy."

"You know how to work that thing?" Dean said skeptically. Clara frowned.

"Well, I'm not an expert, but I'm fairly sure you just point and think."

"Yeah? That sounds foolproof," said Dean.

"Oi, don't give me that," Clara said. "I've never been given an instruction manual before, but I've messed around with it a bit. Always seems like if I know what I want it to do, it'll do it."

"What happens when you don't know?" Sam asked.

"It'll buzz."

"Okay," said Sam. "It's a start. But that screwdriver won't stop the thing, it'll just slow it down."

"Screwdriver?" Dean asked, raising an eyebrow.

"Yeah," said Sam sheepishly. "It's…sonic. Apparently."

"What we really need is a plan," said Clara.

"Well, we've got lots of weapons in the trunk. I say we just throw everything at it and see what sticks," said Dean.

"You know that's not actually a plan, right?" Clara checked.

"What, you got a better idea?" Dean asked her.

"Maybe. Just let me finish talking, and we'll find out," she said, beginning to pace around the room. "We know the creature's bending the laws of time to get here, and because of that, we know it's unstable. And, it's after you two."

"So?" said Dean.

"Well," Clara continued. "Maybe time's the key. It's here to correct the timeline, but if we mess it up some more, maybe it won't be able to get through anymore."

"That's a lot of maybe's," Dean noted.

"What makes you so sure that could work?" said Sam. "I mean, if a messy timeline is what brought Lysol here in the first place, wouldn't messing it up more make the thing stronger?"

"I don't think so," said Clara. "See, I'm not the first to have travelled with the Doctor."

"Really?" said Dean. "They all like you? 'Cause then I might actually start to like the guy."

"And he was telling me," Clara went ahead, ignoring him, "that he physically can't get back to friends from before he met me. From what he said, there were already a fair amount of paradoxes there, and when he showed up, time travel there was unstable, and he had a lot of trouble breaking through."

"Like with Lysol," Sam nodded.

"Exactly. His friends beat some monster there using a paradox, but doing so made the timeline unstable enough that he couldn't get back to them."

"So we need a paradox," said Dean. "How do we manage that without a DeLorean?"

"Good question," said Clara frowning. "I don't think it would take a big paradox. I mean, it did for the Doctor that one time, but Lysol's already so weak, chances are anything would work."

The three of them sat silently, rolling the problem over in their heads.

"Wait a minute," Sam spoke up. "Clara, you remember the other names the Doctor mentioned?"

"You mean Jason Head and Alex Fox?" she said.

"Those are the ones," he confirmed.

"Who are they?" Dean asked.

"The first people to go missing," Sam answered.

"Oh. Oh! I forgot about them, how does that work?" said Dean, scrunching his eyebrows together.

"That's what Lysol does. It erases memories, not just people," said Clara.

"And now I know how to stop it," said Sam.

* * *

AN: Kind of a short chapter, but the next one's pretty long, and in it we reach the final confrontation with Lysol. But don't worry, the story doesn't end there! If I get the time and motivation, I have a pretty long story arc in mind that'll hopefully be pretty cool. That's about it from me, just be sure to review! I promise, I'm open to any and all criticism.


	5. Things Get Complicated

It was dusk when Sam and Dean reached a large clearing just on the outside of town. The two hopped out of the Impala, unloading the small arsenal they had stashed away in the trunk. They pulled out all the stops; guns with salt rounds and silver bullets, their various and exotic collection of knives, some holy oil and a lighter for good measure, and the Doctor's sonic screwdriver as a last resort. Sam had hoped that now that Lysol had their scents, so to speak, it would follow him and Dean, and hopefully avoid the crowded areas around town where someone could get hurt.

"Bobby hasn't called back, then," Dean checked with his brother.

Sam shook his head. "Must not have found anything. We're on our own for this."

"So what do we do now?"

Sam shrugged. "Guess we wait?"

Dean rolled his eyes, and went to lean against the Impala. Fortunately, the boys didn't have to wait for very long. Just as Dean was getting comfortable, the sky lit up in a series of blue sparks. Sam and Dean immediately leapt into action, both leveling their guns at the point in the sky.

As soon as Lysol appeared, the brothers began to shoot at it, Sam using salt rounds, and Dean using silver bullets. But Lysol was quick. As soon as it appeared, it took off, flying high into the sky, and then going in to dive bomb its attackers. Neither Sam or Dean's shots were having the intended effect of killing the damn thing, but they did at least seem to throw it off course a bit. Instead of diving straight into Dean, it ended up plowing into the ground at full force. Slightly dazed, but still annoyingly alive, the thing picked itself off the ground, and after a slight stumble, it was back in the air.

Lysol was smarter this time. Instead of making a beeline to the brothers, it started to weave and maneuver itself, making it harder for Sam and Dean to actually hit it. Lysol moved in closer, and began swiping at the brothers with its long legs. It caught Sam, managing to toss him a few feet to the side. He quickly picked himself up, dodging the swinging legs a few more times before a solid shot from Dean managed to knock the thing sideways.

"How much longer we gotta do this?" Dean called to his brother.

"Clara said she'd call if she had any problems. Any minute, now," Sam called back to him. Just then, alarms on both their phones went off.

"There it is!" said Dean, smiling. "You're done for, you son of a bitch!"

Lysol didn't seem to notice anything, swooping in on Dean when he caught its attention. Dean ducked out of the way, firing off a few more shots to knock the thing into the ground. As Lysol was picking itself up again, it began to spark and flicker in and out of existence. Sam picked his phone out of his pocket and glanced down at it. There on the screen, just like they'd planned, was an alert that had been sent out to the entire area, giving the names and basic descriptions of Alex Fox and Jason Head. By now, Clara would have already been to the victims' families, and everyone was starting to remember the people they lost.

"Tell me Dean," said Sam, just loud enough for his voice to carry. "How can so many people remember someone who never even existed?"

"Dunno, Sammy," Dean smiled. "Sounds a little paradoxical, doesn't it?"

Lysol kept writhing and flickering, just as Clara ran into the clearing to join the Winchesters.

"You took your sweet time," Dean called to her.

"Oi, you try getting a phone alert sent out for the whole county! Half the police still think type writers are pretty new. Technology that advanced is a nightmare for them," she said. "It's just lucky the Doctor never asked for his psychic paper back when he last lent it to me. You think we beat it?" she added, nodding at Lysol.

Just then, Lysol, still sparking and flickering, managed to pick itself off the ground, and take off into the air.

"Crap!" Dean said at the same time Sam added, "That's a no."

Lysol took a drive straight for the three of them. Sam, Dean, and Clara all ducked, and then…nothing happened. Cautiously, Clara looked up to see that Lysol was gone.

"Where'd it go?" she asked.

Dean looked around in confusion. "Maybe our plan worked?"

"Not quite."

The three of them spun around at the sound of the new voice. There, leaning against the Impala, was the Doctor.

"Truthfully, your plan was quite rubbish," he continued. "Brilliant thinking, you definitely made my job a bit easier. But if you want to stop an Ooffrairtfidibleheeg, you'd need a TARDIS. Which you don't have, so it's lucky I do. I've locked it out of this time period completely."

This left all three humans particularly dumbfounded.

Dean frowned at him. "So all that crap about not being able to help, and then you just go ahead and help us anyway?"

"Seriously, what gives?" added Sam. He looked to Clara. "You don't seem very surprised."

"Yeah," she said. "Frankly, nothing he does surprises me anymore."

The Doctor sauntered forward, giving them a sheepish smile. "Sorry about earlier. I had things a bit wrong. But you shouldn't be in danger anymore, that's all that counts. Come along, Clara."

Clara crossed her arms, giving the Doctor a pointed stare as she refused to move.

"Not getting out of this that easy, Chin Boy. What have you found out?"

The Doctor rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, I really didn't want to spoil the mood— but fine, if you insist. Actually, you're not all safe. No one is." The Doctor paused to collect his thoughts. "2012. Hell of a year, and if it wasn't for a few…friends…of mine, I would have liked nothing more than to stay very, very far away from it."

"Why's that?" Sam asked, thinking he might already have an idea as to the answer.

"It's the beginning of the end. Or, it was meant to be. Every kind of natural disaster, on top of violence, starvation, disease, and death on an unprecedented scale. And as the years went on, it was meant to only get worse."

"Why stay away from it, then?" Clara asked with concern. "Seems like the sort of thing you'd step right in to stop. To save as many people as you can."

The Doctor sighed. "Usually, I would. But I knew it was a fixed point. Or seemed like one, anyway. That's where I got it wrong." The Doctor looked up to Sam, with admiration clear on his face. "The end of the world wasn't the fixed point. It was you, Sam, saying yes to Lucifer. All the rest," he looked to Dean as well. "You were able to change it. And if I might add, you did a very good job in doing so."

"Yeah, yeah. We get it. We're all kinds of awesome," said Dean, clearly losing his patience with the Doctor's long winded way of explaining the apparent life and death situation they were supposed to be up against.

"You keep talking about fixed points," Sam realized. "What does that mean, exactly?"

"Oh! I've got this one!" Clara piped up. "Most events in time are in flux. If you end up back in time, you can change things. Except for sometimes, and those are fixed points. Think something like the sinking of the Titanic. For most boats, you could tell the lookout to watch closer for icebergs, and you'd stop them from sinking. But no matter what you did, you could never stop the Titanic from sinking."

"Why?" asked Sam. "What makes that boat so special?"

"Any theories on fixed points are highly speculative," the Doctor cut in. "From what I've experienced, I'd say that certain events keep the universe in the same basic shape. Most actions in the past have some bearing on future events, but wouldn't alter the timeline too drastically. Fixed points are often events that impact the entire course of history."

"Thanks for the science lesson, Doc, but you mentioned danger?" Dean interrupted.

"Ah, yes. Sorry," the Doctor said, looking sheepish again. "Well, after you let slip the whole…averting the Apocalypse thing, I realized something wasn't quite right. There would be signs if you had averted a fixed point. Bits of history would be leaking through, the skin of the universe would be weakened. But when I went to check, the only thing out of the ordinary was…well, the creature you've taken to calling Lysol. Why call it that, by the way?"

"You said it was disinfectant. Lysol's a disinfectant, and a lot easier to say than a oofle-fart-borg," Dean told him.

"Ooffrairtfidibleheeg. Is that really so hard?" the Doctor was answered by a unanimous 'yes,' so he continued on a bit disheartened. "Anyway, the creature wasn't behaving as it does normally. These things are specifically evolved to snuff out anomalies in the timeline. It should have found you two in a heartbeat. But instead, it erased people you'd talked to. There's no debate, it was definitely after you two, but not because you had altered a fixed point." The Doctor paused to let that sink in. "Because, what I think, is that someone is controlling it." The Doctor looked ominously around the group, and was very put out when Sam and Dean both burst out laughing.

"Sorry, man. I know you're trying to scare us," said Sam, wiping tears from his eyes.

"But you seriously think we'd be _surprised_ to find out someone wants us dead?" Dean continued for him. "Hell, I can't even remember the last time something big and nasty _wasn't_ out to kill us."

"This is different," the Doctor insisted. "Don't you two understand? Whoever this was, they want to send you back in time. They want to restart the Apocalypse!"

"I know plenty who'd want to do that," Dean said lightly.

"But not many who _could_," the Doctor continued. "For someone to have control over an Ooffrairtfidibleheeg…I've never heard of it happening. It must have taken colossal amounts of energy. I doubt even you boys have come across anything this powerful."

"Can't be that powerful, can it?" asked Clara. She, at least, had the decency to look mildly concerned. "I mean, the four of us managed to stop it without too much bother."

"Which is exactly my cause for concern," the Doctor said, running a hand down his face. "Whatever we just experienced, it was only act one."


	6. Slumber Party

"No way," said Dean adamantly.

"Just one night. That can't possibly hurt, can it?" the Doctor pleaded.

"Dude, that box of yours is way freaky. I'd rather spend the night in my moldy old motel room, thanks."

The Doctor, seeing he was getting nowhere, turned his attention to Sam. "Something terrible is after you two, and the TARDIS is one of the safest places in the universe."

Clara snickered at that. The Doctor threw her a glare, and after a brief roll of the eyes, she was quiet again. "Just one night, to make sure you're not in immediate danger. And that'll hopefully give me enough time to find out what's after you."

Sam wasn't entirely sold on the idea of spending the night in the spaceship of an alien—and one he barley knew, at that—but he was seriously curious to see the thing. Especially since the Doctor let slip that it was 'bigger on the inside,' whatever that meant. And as far as he could see, the Doctor was a good guy. He'd saved their lives a few times now, and he'd been right so far about Lysol—no reason for him to be lying now.

"Relax, Dean," Sam said, making up his mind. "Like the Doc says, it's only one night. What could go wrong?"

"Quite a lot, truthfully," the Doctor blurted. Sam and Dean both gave him a hard look. Realizing his mistake, the Doctor ploughed forward with only slightly forced confidence. "But not nearly as much as could go wrong out here. Trust me, the two of you will be perfectly safe."

"Fine," Dean gave in. "But you better not expect me to slow dance, E.T."

The Doctor gave him a questioning look.

"Inside joke," Sam told him. "It's—actually, just… never mind."

* * *

Sam wasn't sure what his expectations were, but the Doctor's ship sure seemed to meet them. He took in the impressive metal interior, complete with console, and engravings of what he assumed to be the Doctor's language. Just as he began to wonder what could possibly be written there, he and Dean were beckoned forward by Clara. The Doctor remained motionless in front of the monitor on the console.

"Since Chin Boy's busy, I guess you two would like me to give you the grand tour," Clara said brightly.

"Sounds good," said Sam.

"Too bad then," said Clara. Sam and Dean exchanged looks. "This place is literally infinite. There's no way I could show you the entire thing. Trust me, I found out the hard way."

Before Sam and Dean could figure out what the hell that meant, Clara smiled again.

"But no worries. Since neither of you is a living paradox, the TARDIS will make it easy. It—sorry, she," Clara corrected herself, though apparently not for the benefit of the boys, "can rearrange rooms based on need. We just have to find a door, and it'll be your bedroom for the night."

"Living paradox?" Sam questioned.

"I am, yeah," said Clara. "Long story, hard to explain. The Doctor and I haven't known each other long, but we have been through a lot together."

"Oh," said Sam, trying to make sense of things. "You two are… together, then?"

Clara blushed. "What? No, course not. What gave you that idea? I mean, yeah, the Doctor is…but he's over a thousand years old. And an alien. And married. Actually, not totally sure on that last one," Clara finished with a frown.

"What's your deal, anyway?" Dean cut in. "I mean, do you live in here, with the Doc?"

"Not exactly," said Clara. "I might stay the night sometimes, yeah, but I have my own flat in London. It'd be pretty easy to get caught up in all this," Clara gestured around the hallway. "But I have a life all my own, and I can't just run away from it. But that's the beauty of travelling with the Doctor. I can travel all 'round the universe, and still be home in time for tea."

"Must be nice," Dean said gruffly.

"Yeah, it really is," Clara said with a smile. She finally came to a stop outside a door at the end of the corridor. "This is you two, then. Don't hesitate, if you need anything, just call."

Clara walked off, leaving the boys staring at the door. Dean looked up at Sam, who shrugged back at him.

"Um," Sam called out to get Clara's attention. "How do you open this thing?"

Clara, smirking, walked back to the door, and pushed a round button to the side of it. The door slid open in a way that reminded both Sam and Dean of something out of Star Wars, and the two of them entered the room. While before walking through the door the whole TARDIS seemed to resemble Generic Spaceship #4, Sam and Dean's room provided a stark contrast. It looked the same as any motel the boys had stayed at over the years, though thankfully much cleaner. It had the two queens, the generic landscape paintings, and the old TV about twenty years out of date. It was, frankly, a welcome sight after such a weird day (though thinking too much about how an alien spaceship could make a perfect replica of a cheap American motel in a matter of minutes made Sam's head hurt).

"So," said Sam, going to sit on one of the beds. He let out a small laugh. "Interesting day."

Dean sat down across from him, not quite as amused as his brother. "I'm not sure I like this, Sammy."

"Tell me about it. I mean, we had a freaking alien attack us, and the Doc says that's only act one."

"Not that," Dean said. He gestured at the room around them. "I mean this, it's just…C'mon, man, don't you think our world is big enough? And now we have to add a whole other world into the mix?"

"Yeah, well, our lives have definitely jumped the shark," Sam said with an ironic smile.

"But we're not in it alone," he added more seriously. "Clara and the Doc seem to know a lot about this…their world. As long as we have their help, we can handle it."

"And you're sure we have their help?" Dean asked. "We thought we had the angels helping us, look how that turned out."

"Yeah. We met Cas," Sam pointed out. "Look, Dean, I'm not saying this is all good, 'cause clearly there's something big after us, but it doesn't mean we're alone."

"All I know is I don't trust this Doctor guy," Dean replied.

"Why not?"

"Why not?" Dean repeated. "Dude, you heard him talking before. All that stuff about 'fixed points' and crap? Sounded a hell of a lot like the angels when they talked about fate, or destiny or whatever. I mean, we don't even know this guy. Why's he helping _us _out?"

"He said that he doesn't want anyone to restart the Apocalypse," said Sam, crossing his arms. "Sounds like a pretty good reason to me."

"What do you mean? He's not even from Earth, why should he care?"

Sam gave Dean his classic it's-pretty-obvious-and-if-you-stop-thinking-about-guns-cars-and-girls-for-two-seconds-you'd-see-that face, which Dean succinctly replied to by flipping him off.

"Seriously, though, haven't you seen the way he is with Clara?" Sam said to break the nonverbal argument threatening to break out. "He clearly cares about her, and we know she's from Earth. And Clara mentioned other friends of his… He probably just doesn't want to lose anyone."

Dean snorted. "How do we know that's for sure? How do we know _anything's_ for sure? He's an alien, there's totally different rules with him, stuff we've never even heard of. The Doc looks human. How many other aliens are there running around, and we never even noticed?" Sam looked away, realizing his brother had a point. Dean sighed. "Thing is, man, the Doc's the expert on all of this, and we know nothing. Tell me that doesn't make you a tad uncomfortable."

Sam didn't answer.

"Whatever, man," Dean said after a while. "I'm hitting the sack."

"I thought you said we couldn't trust the Doc?" Sam checked.

"If he wanted to kill us, he'd have done it by now. Who knows when next we'll get a chance for some shut-eye. I'm beat, so I'm sleeping." Dean rolled over, fully clothed with his back facing Sam.

"Huh," Sam said. "Well, good night to you, too."

* * *

Back in the console room, the Doctor was busy looking at the results on his monitor. He skimmed once more over the information on _Supernatural_ by Carver Edlund. As far as the Doctor could tell, the series was the original telling of the Winchester Gospels, a story that had been condensed, translated, and misinterpreted dozens of times before it became part of biblical canon in the 41st century. No wonder it took the Doctor so long to recognize the similarities between the Winchesters in the story and the Winchesters he just met. Clearly, he'd be needing the original rather than the spark notes version in order to keep up with the two boys. It was lucky that Amy was a fan of the original _Supernatural_ books. The series was never very popular when it was first being published, so it was likely the Doctor would never have heard of it if Amy hadn't kept the complete works in her personal corner of the TARDIS library. The Doctor had always had a sneaking suspicion that Amy's favorite books were connected in some way to the religious text, but it seemed that he had now found his proof. Now having read the books, the similarities between it and the Winchester Gospels were indisputable, despite the rather…flowery use of prose Mr. Edlund seemed so fond of. Anyway, the original series went way more in depth than the final cut. The Doctor was able to learn everything he wanted about the Winchesters…and quite a bit more, though he did try to skim the more, ahem, _personal_ parts.

Unfortunately, but not unsurprisingly, all this research proved a bit pointless. Sure, he managed to learn loads about the supernatural, but Sam and Dean were right. The books provided plenty of examples of people, or rather demons, who would want to restart the Apocalypse, but none could actually manage it. Except of course for…but that was impossible, surely. The Doctor ran a hand down his face and stifled a yawn. Despite what Clara might think, he really did need sleep, at least occasionally. But whatever was threatening the Winchesters was more important. Sleep, the Doctor thought as he pounded away at the controls of the console, would have to wait.

* * *

AN: So this is the end of the first episode of sorts. Hope everyone's enjoying it so far! I do have a few more 'episode' ideas planned out, but whether or not I'll be keeping to that format kinda depends. Sorry for the later-than-usual update, I've been busy (which is secretly code for lazy, but don't tell anyone). Hopefully I can keep updates coming at a fairly consistent basis. Anyway, reviews, follows, and favorites come recommended by eleven out of twelve and a half Doctors. Seriously, it's science!


	7. Out of the Frying Pan

The Winchesters woke with a jolt—literally. Hopefully something was wrong with the TARDIS, as the alternative was that its version of an alarm clock was tossing people out of bed, and knocking them flat on their faces. Effective, but painful. It seemed there really _was_ something wrong, though, as the room continued to jostle the boys around even as they struggled to their feet.

"Dude, what the hell?" Dean groaned, grabbing onto the wall to steady himself. Sam, lacking any answer, motioned for his brother to follow him out of the room. They ran through the corridors, reached the first turn and found themselves in the console room. Ignoring for the moment that the console room seemed significantly closer than it had last night (if there even was such a thing as night in a time machine), Sam walked up to the Doctor, who was currently dashing around the console looking rather flummoxed.

"Doc, you mind telling us what's going on?" Sam asked.

The Doctor gave him a half second glance before looking away with a touch of embarrassment. Just then, Clara entered the room looking like she had just rolled out of bed. Or had been thrown out of bed, more likely. She sauntered on up to the Doctor, looking bored, and maybe a touch frustrated. This, in contrast to the Winchesters who were about a dagger's throw away from full on panic.

"What's the matter, Chin-Boy?" she said, pausing to stifle a yawn. "Lost control of your box again?" Sam and Dean looked to him accusingly.

"What? No, of course not! Just a bit of a glitch, that's all!" the Doctor tried to assure them. He dashed around the console, stopping to pull up the monitor. Reviewing the stream of Gallifreyan text flashing across it, he added, "Well, a glitch that may have pulled us across the entire galaxy. And several thousand years into the future."

"What!?" exclaimed Sam and Dean at exactly the same time. Dean glared at his brother before stepping up to the Doctor.

"So much for keeping us safe for the night! Were you always trying to kidnap us?" he demanded.

"There was always the distinct possibility that _might_ happen, but I assure you it wasn't entirely intentional," the Doctor answered. Seeing that the Doctor's reply hadn't helped anything, Clara spoke up.

"Don't worry, the Doctor ends up accidentally kidnapping loads of his friends. He'll get you back, as long as Missouri's easier to get to than Heathrow."

Now Dean was pissed. "That ain't good enough! Listen, Doc, we got shit we're dealing with back home, you can't just take us all the way across the frickin' universe!"

"If it means anything, it's not actually me doing this!" said the Doctor. "Something's overriding my controls." Which, at their mention, exploded in disastrous display of sparks. "Ah. You may all want to find something to hang onto."

All four of them just managed to grab onto some part of the machine before the TARDIS landed hard, with a crashing sound so cliché, all it was missing was the squeal of a pissed off cat. With one last jolt, everyone but the Doctor was thrown off their feet.

"Not the worst landing I've had," Clara noted, as she stood up and brushed herself off. "But I could have done without it first thing in the morning."

"That's really all you have to say?" said Sam, also getting back to his feet. "How often does this happen, exactly?"

The Doctor hit the monitor a few times, and tossed it to the side when it refused to light up. "That's no good. We'll have to find out when and where we are the old fashioned way."

Before the Doctor could reach the door, the Winchesters moved to block him.

"You can't be serious," Sam said.

"I'm never serious," the Doctor replied. He made for the door again, pouting as the boys stayed put. "Now if you'll move, the two of you are rather large, and in my way."

"Dude, you're the one who said something big and powerful is after us. Now something takes control of the DeLorean Falcon and dumps us God knows where, and you wanna go stick your head out the door?" Dean checked.

"When you put it like that, it does sound rather daft," the Doctor agreed. "But whatever brought us here probably won't let us leave, and even if it did, the TARDIS needs some time to repair herself anyway. The best we can do for now is explore a bit—try to find out what's gone wrong so we can leave."

The Winchesters exchanged skeptical looks.

"What could go wrong?" the Doctor continued. "If anything does happen, we can come straight back to the TARDIS. We'll just have to be careful not to stray too far."

The Doctor pushed his way past the boys, and Clara, shrugging, went after him. Sam and Dean, seeing little alternative, followed the two of them out the wooden doors.

Even though Sam and Dean knew the TARDIS had the ability to travel through time and space, it was still a bit surreal stepping outside and seeing an alien marketplace rather than a crappy motel in Missouri. Although, for an alien marketplace, it really didn't seem all that alien. Sure, the clothes were a little weird, and some of the items on sale were unrecognizable, but the people still looked—well, like people. Like humans (and whatever the hell the Doctor was), at any rate. The boys caught up to the Doctor and Clara, who were joining the crowd as if they did so every day.

"So?" the Doctor said, tossing a look back to the boys. "What do you think? Pretty cool, eh?"

"I guess I was expecting more Avatar than Firefly," Sam admitted.

Taking his point, the Doctor nodded. "Humans really are the great pioneers of the universe. You lot manage to explore planets and galaxies that most species have the good sense to stay the hell away from. It's a wonder I manage to find any planets you haven't managed to touch."

"Huh," Dean said with a hint of humor. "An alien who's into sci-fi, and an angel who only reads the bible. What's next, a superhero who likes comic books, or maybe a cowboy who's into Clint Eastwood?"

"Well, if you're looking for me to introduce you—" the Doctor began.

"Oi, Chin Boy. Priorities?" Clara reminded him. "What's our plan here, anyway?"

"Well, no real plan as such," the Doctor said, self consciously scratching his chin. "Still, I'm sure that between the four of us, we'll come up with something. Eventually."

Dean rolled his eyes as he questioned, yet again, just what exactly he had gotten himself into. As he did so, he thought he saw a glint of silver out of the corner of his eye. Looking back round again, he noticed Clara staring hard in the same direction.

"Doctor," she said hesitantly. "Isn't that a—"

Clara was cut off by the sound of a massive explosion.

The four looked around frantically trying to find the source of the noise, but found it difficult as the crowd around them panicked, sprinting in all different directions, and pushing the four of them along. Clara managed to follow Sam through the confusion, while the Doctor grabbed Dean's arm, steering him away from the worst of it and down a small alley.

"Come on, let's move, lads!" a voice rang out, as a group of armed men came barreling down the same alley the Doctor and Dean had run into. With the only two options being to run alongside them or be run over, the Doctor and Dean kept moving with the group that brought them ever further away from Sam and Clara.

Who, at this point, were being surrounded by a group of uniformed individuals leveling handguns at them.

"Terrorists, got to be," one of the group spoke up. "Just look at the way they're dressed!"

"Well don't shoot them," said another. "Bring them up to central command, we can question them there."

Sam and Clara were handcuffed, and led off in the opposite direction. With one last glance over his shoulder, Sam's suspicions were confirmed: his brother was nowhere in sight.


	8. Take Me to Your Leader

Sam and Clara were led at gunpoint through the streets of the city, and into what looked like some sort of town hall. It was certainly the largest and most official looking building they'd seen on the way over, and while it may have been grand and ornate at some point, someone had really let the place go. Peeling paint, a few boarded up windows, and what looked a bit like mold growing up the side, all made the place look abandoned, even with all the people bustling in and out.

Once inside, Sam and Clara were led down a few hallways, and were eventually forced to enter a large office room.

"Don't try anything," one of the guards growled, raising his weapon threateningly.

Sam wondered briefly why it seemed that everyone on a far off planet in the future spoke perfectly accented modern English, but a new voice cut across his chain of thought.

"I'm sure neither of them would be so foolish." The man who spoke was an old, with greying hair and a calm demeanor. In contrast to the guards' utilitarian uniforms, this man wore long, flowing robes. Much like the town hall itself, his robes looked to have once been very elegant, but now were shabby and well worn. The man calmly took a seat behind his desk, observing the prisoners coolly, but not cruelly. He continued speaking, again addressing the guard. "I suppose you believe these two to be responsible for this morning's attack?"

The guard faltered a bit at the unexpected question, but nodded. "Yes, sir. They were found near the site of the explosion, fleeing the scene."

The man rolled his eyes. "As I understand it, a bomb had just gone off. Wouldn't it have been more suspicious if they hadn't been fleeing?"

The guard was silent, embarrassed, but the man gave him a gentle smile.

"I suppose with their unusual dress, they were simply the only people who stood out," the man continued. "But that's not because they were responsible for the attacks. Quite clearly, they're off-worlders."

The guard looked up, shocked this time. "B-but—That's impossible!"

The man's expression turned serious. "Evidently not. You can go ahead and remove the handcuffs, by the way. It appears this has all been a misunderstanding."

The guard released Clara and Sam, and the two hesitantly turned to go.

"Hold on," the man called out. "I'd like you two to stay, if it's all the same. Visitors are very rare here, and I'd love for an opportunity to talk."

"We'd love to," said Sam. "But we kinda got separated from a couple of our friends, and we really need to get back to them."

The two turned to leave again, but the guard moved to stand in their way.

"I'm afraid I'm going to have to insist," the man said. "Don't worry about your friends, there aren't any reports of fatalities or serious injuries, so for the time being, they should be fine. Why don't you two take a seat?"

Not liking the way this conversation was going, but with little other choice, Sam and Clara obediently sat down across from the man.

"Now," he said. "We'll start with introductions. My name is Emersani, and I am the governor of this settlement."

"Uh," said Sam looking to Clara for support. She gave a small smile and nodded. "I'm Sam. Sam Winchester, and this is Clara…"

"Oswald," she finished for him. "Clara Oswald."

"And you two are truly off-worlders?" Emersani checked with them.

Clara let out a nervous laugh. "Are we that obvious?"

Emersani chuckled. "Your dress sense is rather unusual. It's true that many of the rebels have strange dressing habits, but I've never seen clothing such as yours."

"Well, I've never been big into fashion anyways," Sam said, taking Clara's lead.

"Fortunately, that is not the topic I wish to discuss with you," Emersani continued. "What I truly want to know is how exactly you came to be here in the first place."

Sam looked to Clara who, despite looking just as nervous as he felt, quickly began speaking.

"You obviously know about people from other worlds. And I saw a spaceship on the way over here, so you've got the technology to travel that distance. So why are _you_ so surprised to see us?"

Emersani frowned, leaning back in his chair. "No vessel has been able to arrive on, or leave this settlement for many years now."

"Why not?" Sam asked, suddenly intrigued.

"I am as ignorant to the cause as you are," Emersani regarded them suspiciously. "Or seem to be. At any rate, every time a vessel nears a certain altitude above this planet, it is unable to continue further."

"So, what? They hit a kind of wall, like a force field or something?" Clara asked.

"Not quite," Emersani replied. "It's more as if they are…willed to the ground. Or away from it, if it's attempting to land here."

"So that means you guys are all cut off down here. You're on your own," Sam realized.

"Quite unfortunately," Emersani agreed. "Settlers came to this planet for the vast mineral resources not far from its surface. However, as you might have observed, the settlement is very arid. It's difficult to grow much of anything here, and for much of our history, we have depended on supplies from the Empire." Emersani leaned forward again, this time with an intensity in his eyes. "So you understand why I'm so interested in you two. You must have found a way past…whatever it is that's containing us. I must know how this happened so that other vessels may do the same. So please tell me, how did you manage to land here?"

Sam and Clara exchanged glances.

"It's a bit complicated," Clara began slowly. "The TA—the ship we came here on, it's not exactly the kind of ship you're used to. It more…teleports than flies places. And actually, the Doctor is the only one who can- erm, operate it."

"And this Doctor," Emersani continued. "He is…?"

"He's one of our friends," Sam answered. "One we got separated from."

"I see. And he's the only one with the knowledge on how to leave?" Emersani asked, more dejectedly this time.

Sam and Clara nodded, and Emersani leaned back in his chair again.

"Very well," he said. "We'll just have to do our best to find him. What did you say his name was?"

"He'll answer to 'Doctor'," Clara said with a hint of a smile.

"And do you have any idea where this… Doctor might have gone?" Emersani asked a bit more urgently.

"Um, you know what?" Sam began. "I think I did see him run down one of the back alleys. He was kind of getting pushed around by this group…of….people." Sam's eyes went wide in realization. "Only, they weren't dressed a little weird. And they were carrying guns."

"Uh oh," Clara said. "You don't think—"

"They must have been the rebels," Emersani said. "The ones responsible for the attack. This is very, very bad news."

"You don't think they would have hurt him?" Sam asked uncertainly. "Or my brother?"

Emersani looked to him sympathetically. "I'm afraid there is every chance that the Doctor and your brother are dead."


	9. Into the Fire

The Doctor and Dean weren't dead. That was the good news.

They were, as it happens, inside a disused apartment building at the edge of town, and surrounded by a group of armed, and angry people. Strangely dressed, armed and angry people. While most of the people in the market had been dressed in neutral-colored robes, this group was dressed more practically, wearing camo and cargo pants, reminding Dean of modern soldiers. Well, modern back home, not whenever the hell he was now. And as far as Dean was concerned, this time zone sucked balls.

It was just his luck that after the bomb went off, the crowd that pushed him and the Doctor along happened to be the people who set the bomb off in the first place. By the time either of them realized the mistake, Dean and the Doctor were unhappy to find that the apparent terrorists had noticed them as well. By that point, the terrorists weren't willing to let their two witnesses go. From there on out, they'd been dragged back to the group's headquarters until the group decided what to do with them, though the consensus did seem to be moving in a rather unfortunate direction.

"I say we kill 'em," one of the men said. With the greying hair, lack of a shave, and some rather nasty scars down the side of his face, the guy looked to be among the most experienced of the lot. "They're bound to be spies, and if not, they know too much anyway."

"Hey, whoa, let's calm down, shall we?" said Dean, earning a few nasty looks from the guys surrounding him. "Me and the Doc here ain't spies. In fact, we're planning to bail on this place as soon as we get the chance. That right Doc?"

The Doctor nodded hastily. "Yes, as my good friend here says. Not spies, and absolutely no reason for anybody to be shooting anybody!"

"Well, forgive me if I'm not convinced," the same man grumbled.

"Hang on," a younger looking man chimed in. The contrast between him and the first guy couldn't have been greater. Dean wondered where he managed to get the hair gel that gave is blond hair the classic wind swept, teen heat-throb look. Although, teen might not be too far off. Dean doubted the guy even had to shave yet. Still, as pretty boy kept speaking, it was obvious by their quiet attention that the rest of the group respected him just as much as old-and-grizzled. "I think they might be telling the truth."

"You believe them? Seriously?" grizzled guy said, narrowing his eyes at pretty boy. "Just look at how they're dressed! Obviously trying to fit in with our lot, though they're doing a piss poor job of it."

Blondie snorted. "Of course their clothes are strange. They're off-worlders, isn't it obvious?" At the rest of the group's apparent confusion, he pressed on. "The governor's not an idiot, he wouldn't send in a pair of spies that stand out that much. The only people who'd look that strange can't be from around here."

"Oh, brilliant!" the Doctor cut in. "You're completely right, erm…?"

"Sebin," Blondie offered.

"Wonderful name," the Doctor responded, and then addressed the room at large. "Yes, your friend Sebin has the right idea. We're not from around here, all of this is a huge mistake."

Old-and-grumpy snorted. "Yeah, right. There's no way any off-worlders managed to land here."

"No sense in denying what's right in front of you," the Doctor pointed out. "Sorry, your name is?"

The Doctors question was answered by a pointed silence. After looking expectantly to his companion, Sebin sighed.

"His name's Arerly," Sebin answered. Arerly glared at him, as Sebin continued, "He's a bit…shy. At times"

"If they are off-worlders, that makes them worse," Arerly said. "That means _they_ must have let them through."

"They?" repeated Dean. "Who's 'they'?" When no one answered, Dean pressed on. "Look, we didn't choose to come here. Something pulled us in. Whoever 'they' are, there's a good chance they're the ones responsible. I just wanna know whose asses to kick, everyone okay with that?"

Arerly considered what Dean had said, and sighed.

"It's the Cybermen," he said grimly.

"What's Tony Stark got to do with anything?" Dean asked.

Arerly and Sebin exchanged confused glances.

"Not Iron Man, it's Cybermen," the Doctor clarified. He turned his attention back to Arerly and Sebin. "There are Cybermen on this planet?"

"You didn't know?" Sebin asked. "There were a few of them milling around the market this morning, that's what the bomb was for."

"That was you lot then?" the Doctor checked, as a few people nodded. "But you're not a police force. Why are you lot fighting the Cybermen on your own?"

Arerly sighed, and addressed the group still facing the Doctor and Dean. "Right, you lot, get to work. Sebin, you can explain the situation to these… civilians."

With that, the group disbanded, leaving the three of them behind. Sebin gestured to the Doctor and Dean to follow him, and they all sat down on a stack of boxes out of the way of all the activity.

"About the Cybermen, it's…kind of a long story," Sebin began.

"You two mind starting with what exactly a Cyberman is?" Dean asked.

"Half man, half machine," the Doctor answered. "Cybermen originally come from a world much like Earth, a world where people decided to cut away everything that makes them human. They're entirely uniform, and they never get ill, or age, or die. They never feel hunger, or loneliness, or pain—basically, they don't feel anything at all."

"Sounds boring," said Dean.

"Does to most people," the Doctor agreed. "And since the Cybermen are so utterly convinced that their way of life is best, they convert other people into Cybermen as well. And since most people consider that a fate worse than death, most civilizations throw everything they have into defeating them." The Doctor turned to look at Sebin. "So why has yours left that job to a ragtag group of outlaws?"

Sebin laughed at that. "You saying we don't look like professionals?"

"Professional model, maybe," said Dean. "No offense, but you don't really look much like the fightin' type."

"I really hope he sees the irony in that," the Doctor muttered to himself.

Sebin shrugged. "We take anyone we can get around here. Not many people around here are convinced the Cybermen are a real threat. See, our planets kind of locked in. No ships can manage coming or going, and no one knows why. It happened a while back now, but just before the quarantine, a Cyber ship crashed a few miles from town. Turns out, they needed supplies that we couldn't sell, and they have tech that helps us grow our food."

"I thought these… Cyber whats-its were basically robots. What do they know about growing food?" Dean asked.

"They're pretty good with climate manipulation," Sebin answered. "They have these machines that can turn little pieces of desert into functional farmland. They probably had other plans for it down the line, but the tech is still in its early stages. Mind you, that means that the tech isn't that great, so food is still pretty scarce around here, but it has helped some."

"And they provide this technology in exchange for your mineral resources?" the Doctor asked.

Sebin nodded. "They say it's to help with repairs and maintenance, you know, for themselves and the ship."

"So why do you guys have such a problem with them?" asked Dean. "I mean, I get it, they seem like soulless douchebags, but right now it looks like you guys got a pretty square deal goin' on. Why mess with that?"

Sebin sighed, dragging a hand through his hair. "People have been going missing," he said. "Not many, just a few here and there. It's been going on for years. I mean, I know, most places, that sort of thing just happens. But our planet's been cut off for years, and our population's small. We watch out for each other, no one would think of leaving, or hurting other people. And what's more, no bodies ever turn up. I mean, we're talking about a place with a murder rate of zero, but with dozens of disappearances in the last few years. Tell me that's not strange."

Dean considered this, then nodded in agreement. "Okay, yeah, definitely fishy. But how do you know it's the Cybermen?"

"Because it happened to me," came a voice from behind the three of them. Dean and the Doctor jumped, and turned to find it was Arerly who had spoken. "Years ago now, those Cyber-bastards picked me right off the street. Brought me right to their spaceship, nearly even converted me." He ran a hand down the scars on his face. "Got away, of course."

"Didn't you go to the police?" the Doctor asked. "Surely they would've been willing to fight the Cybermen once they realized they were behind the disappearances."

Arerly snorted. "You think I'm stupid? Course I went to them. But it was my word against theirs, and I'm not the city's biggest, and _only_, trade partner. The government's too scared of losing their business to even look into all the disappearances. That's why we're the ones fighting."

"And that's what, blowing up market places?" the Doctor asked with a hint of disapproval.

"We need to stop trade with the Cybermen one way or another," Arerly shrugged.

Sebin nodded enthusiastically. "Right now, we're just giving them the supplies they need to kill us all. And since the government's ignoring the fact, we've been forced to more…drastic measures."

The Doctor leaned forward, resting his chin on his folded hands. "And has it ever occurred to the two of you that this is an extremely terrible plan?"

"Um…" Sebin said.

The Doctor sighed. "I thought not. Look, you've got to know that this puts innocent people at risk, people you're trying to protect. And besides, if you're trying to win support from the government, this is quite possibly the worst way to do so."

"We're long past that point," Arerly argued. "You obviously don't know the Cybermen and what they're capable of. For now, they're just picking us off one by one, but once they have the numbers and the supplies, they'll wipe out the entire settlement!"

"Hate to admit it, but I agree with the Doc," said Dean. "Look, I like the guns blazing approach as much as the next guy, but if you wanna take out the Ironmen, you're gonna need all the help you can get, near as I can tell. Or is this air tight plan of yours working well for you so far?"

Arerly rocked back on his heels a bit, but didn't answer the question.

"So what _should_ we do?" Sebin asked.

"Well before anything else, I need to find my brother," Dean answered him. "Tall, dressed like me, floppy hair, and a face like a lost puppy? Oh, and he should have been with this tiny brunette chick. You wouldn't know how to find him, would you?"

"Hang on, I think I saw those two," said one of the soldiers just passing by. "They were cornered by the police just before our lot cleared the market."

"Oh great, Sammy got arrested? Again?" Dean said, rolling his eyes.

"Any idea where the police might have brought them?" the Doctor asked the man.

"Well, it's a good bet they'd want to question them in Town Hall," he answered.

"And where's that?" asked Dean.

"Wait," Sebin interrupted. "You're not actually thinking of breaking in there?"

"Only an idiot would try that," grumbled Arerly. "It's suicide."

"Well tough!" Dean said, standing up and staring him in the eye. "My brother's in trouble, and I'm not leaving him behind!"

The Doctor stood up as well. "And I won't abandon Clara."

Arerly snorted. "Maybe. But don't expect me to give you any help. Far as I'm concerned, you're mad, the pair of you."

"Yeah? Well who said we needed your help anyway? C'mon, Doc, we're outta here."

The Doctor followed Dean out the door. He glanced back one last time to Sebin, who gave the Doctor an apologetic smile.

"So," said the Doctor, catching up to Dean once the two of them had exited the building. "Do you actually have a plan?"

"Besides getting my brother back?" Dean thought to himself for a second. "No. Honestly, I hadn't thought that far ahead."

The Doctor nodded to himself thoughtfully.

"Why, you have a plan?" Dean asked him.

"Well for starters," the Doctor said, smiling. "We're going to need a change of clothes."

* * *

AN: Sorry for the way late update. College, so... Anyway, hope people are still liking the story and all that. And just as an aside, Capaldi is completely killing it as the Doctor! Seriously, Series 8 is off to a great start!


	10. The Silver Menace

Sam was not happy to hear that his brother might be dead again. Of course, if he was being honest with himself, he didn't think it was very likely that his brother _had_ died. Well, not permanently.

Still, the news was enough to make him anxious, even after Emersani left the room promising to 'make some inquiries' and 'keep them updated'. It was primarily because of all the experience Sam had in life and death situations, in which Dean may or may not have died, that Clara's reaction to their current problem was so surprising. Sure, she'd looked as concerned as Sam had when Emersani announced the likelihood of the Doctor's death, but since then? She'd been behaving much more calmly than Sam felt. It got Sam thinking about her relatively nonchalant behavior ever since the TARDIS started crashing, and about the life she must lead normally with the Doctor as a friend. Either Clara was just extremely good at keeping a cool head, or her life was just as dangerous…well, as dangerous as a Winchester's.

"You're staring," Clara's said, cutting across his thoughts.

Sam blinked, then looked away in embarrassment. "Sorry, must have zoned out for a second."

Clara laughed. "That's alright. It's just…Well, it seems like we could be waiting here for a while. We could try talking to each other. Might be more fun than sitting here."

Sam took a better look at her. "Oh. You really _are_ scared then."

"Sorry?" Clara said, her eyes narrowing.

"No, I mean…Listen, I've been through some pretty tough things, but hearing Dean might be dead? That still scares me," Sam said. "Meanwhile, this whole thing doesn't seem to phase you."

"So why do you think it does?" asked Clara.

"Because you want to talk," Sam answered.

Clara bit her lip. "It's just…On one hand, if a trip goes by and I don't worry the Doctor might die, it's because I'm too busy almost dying myself. Happens all the time, so I shouldn't worry, really. But on the other hand, if anything were to happen to him…"

"You'd be stranded halfway across the universe with no way back home?" Sam guessed.

Clara shook her head. "That's not what I was going to say."

Sam shrugged. "So, what do you want to talk about?"

Clara grimaced. "Suppose I should start with an apology. I mean, I know it's not my fault exactly, but life with the Doctor can be unpredictable. I should've warned you this could happen."

Sam shrugged. "Like you said, wasn't your fault. Besides, I'd have wanted to stay with you guys anyway. But if you had said something, Dean would never agree to spending the night."

Clara leaned forward. "So it really is just you and your brother? I mean, you two travel around the country fighting monsters? All on your own?"

"Sometimes we have friends who help us out. But yeah, I guess. Ever since Dean came back into my life and dragged me back into fighting all things supernatural, it's really just been the two of us."

Clara laughed. "That sounds a little familiar."

Sam raised an eyebrow at her, so Clara sighed and continued.

"I was just a nanny, living this…completely ordinary life. Don't get me wrong, I loved it, but—Out of the blue this complete madman drops into my life saying he knew me. And then everything just went bonkers, and suddenly I was thrown into this world of aliens, and monsters, and time travel. And at the center of it all was just this man who really just…needed me. I mean, he never said it, just said he wanted some company. But it's more than that. I don't think he can handle fighting everything off all on his own."

Sam sank back into his seat, taking in what Clara had to say. He smirked. "Yeah, that reminds me of Dean, alright. Totally at home in a world most people don't know exist, just as long as there's someone around to hear his bad jokes."

Clara laughed, and Sam let himself join in.

Clara opened her mouth as if to say something when the door opened. Expecting Emersani, the two of them looked around to see a Cyberman walking through the door.

For the first time since Sam had met her, Clara looked scared. Terrified, even. He immediately jumped up, ready to fight the thing in any way he could, when Emersani calmly entered the room just behind the metal man.

He took a quick look at Clara's expression. "Ah, I'm assuming you've met Cybermen before, then?"

Sam looked back and forth between Clara and Emersani. "Well, I haven't. Either of you want to tell me what's going on?"

"Cybermen are dangerous. Evil. Just one could wipe out the entire city," Clara said. "Emersani, what are you doing with that thing?"

"Incorrect."

Sam was surprised to hear the machine itself talk.

"Incorrect?" Clara repeated.

"Cybermen are not a danger to this city," the Cyberman clarified.

"Perhaps I should explain?" Emersani suggested.

"Yeah, I think you probably should," Clara said, not taking her eyes off the Cyberman.

Emersani looked to Sam. "Cybermen are usually very dangerous to human populations. Their primary function is to either kill us, or make us…like them."

"What's that supposed to mean?" Sam asked.

"That thing in front of you, it used to be a human being," said Clara. "Does it look human to you now?"

"But _these_ Cybermen are not dangerous to _us_," Emersani continued.

Clara paled. "There's more than one?"

Emersani sighed. "A Cyber ship crashed down here just a few days before we noticed the unnatural barrier over our city. They're stranded here with us, just as much as we're stranded with them."

"Then why aren't they attacking you?" Sam asked.

"Cybermen must focus all resources on possible means of escape," the Cyberman answered.

"So you see, we've had to come to a sort of understanding with our metal friends here," Emersani added. "It's not ideal, but needs must."

Clara nodded slowly, but didn't look terribly convinced.

"Shall we continue our meeting?" the Cyberman asked.

"Ah, yes," said Emersani. "Sam, Clara? I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask you to leave. My office, that is. It's probably best you stay inside the building. We still have to wait for news on your friends, after all."

Sam nodded. "Well, thanks for your time, sir. Come on, Clara"

Sam left the room, dragging Clara out with him.

"Oh, this is not good," Clara said once the two of them were a fair distance from the office. "Whatever the Cybermen are up to here, it's bound to be bad, and I mean very bad, and if the Doctor's still missing, and the lot of them try something, then—"

"Clara!" Sam said. "Calm down, it's fine."

"Oi! Don't tell me to calm down, you clearly don't know the Cybermen! We don't even know what they're talking about in there! And you just want to, what? Ignore the Cybermen, hope that everything turns out just fine?"

"Not exactly." Sam looked up and down the corridors. He waited until one last person rounded a corner, leaving them alone in their own stretch of corridor "Alright, looks like the coast is clear," he said, giving Clara a sly smile. "I keep watch, you listen through the keyhole?"

Clara smirked. "You know what? You're alright for a mammoth."

"Mammoth?" Sam said.

"Oh c'mon, huge? Loads of brown hair? Don't tell me you've never got that before."

"Huh. Usually I get moose."

"Moose!" Clara laughed. "You know, that is better. Suits you."

Sam frowned, nodding towards Emersani's door.

"Alright, alright. Not a fan of the animal nicknames, I can take a hint."


	11. Rescue Mission

"I look ridiculous."

"You look fine."

"Dude, I can feel a breeze. Down there. It's uncomfortable!"

"I always found the sensation liberating."

"Well, the sooner we can change outta these robes and back into real clothes, the better."

"Old jeans and a secondhand flannel? That's what you consider real clothes?"

"Says the guy who walks around in tweed and a bowtie."

"Right, you really want to argue fashion sense now?"

"Why not? We argue about everything else."

"Not everything!" the Doctor said indignantly. Before the irony could set in, he added, "Speaking of which, we need to get going."

Dean nodded. Stealing clothes from an outdoor market was the easiest part of the Doc's plan. The whole breaking into town hall part of the plan was bound to make things more complicated.

"And you're sure that piece of paper will get us in?" Dean asked.

The Doctor brought out his psychic paper with a flourish. "It never fails. Almost never."

"Great," Dean said, unimpressed. He frowned, picking up his pace towards town hall.

"Dean," the Doctor said, walking faster to keep up with him. "Believe me, I want to find Clara just as much as much as you want to find Sam. Appearances aside, I am taking this situation seriously. Trust me."

Dean snorted.

"What?" the Doctor asked.

"I don't know the first thing about you. Why would I trust you?"

"My dashing good looks? My soaring intellect?"

"How about you start with what you know about us."

"You and Sam?" the Doctor checked. Dean nodded. "Well, only what I've read."

Dean considered this for a second and groaned. "Freakin' Chuck. I told him not to write anymore of those books! As if the fan convention wasn't bad enough."

The Doctor laughed.

"It's not funny," Dean snapped. "So you know everything about us?"

"Well, not everything," the Doctor assured him. "Rather more than I'd like. The one about the racist truck was a bit—"

"And I don't know anything about you," Dean said before the Doctor could make him relive that particular brand of crazy. "Not where you're from, not what species you are. I don't even know your name."

The Doctor shrugged. "My home's gone, so where I'm from doesn't matter. The rest of my species is dead, so what I am is hardly important. As for my name, everyone just calls me the Doctor. Honestly, the reason I haven't told you much is because there's not much to tell."

Dean stared at him. "Hold on, your entire species is dead, and there's not much to tell?"

"Long time ago now, I try not think about it," the Doctor said, trying to keep his tone light.

"Hey, fair enough. If I lost my entire species, I'd try not to think about it either. Still don't think it'd work." Dean was quiet for a moment. "What happened?"

The Doctor paused, considering how best to word it. "Well, you and your brother managed to stop the Apocalypse. I was—my people weren't as lucky."

"Don't tell me those angel dickbags tried to Judgment Day your planet too," Dean said with sympathy.

The Doctor was silent.

"Okay, sore subject." Dean thought for a second. "How about Clara then, how'd you two meet?"

"She saved my life," said the Doctor, lighting up. "So many times over. So I promised to show her the universe. After all, traveling alone can get rather boring, and Clara's good company. Plus she's brilliant. And attractive."

"Attractive?" Dean said with a smirk.

The Doctor stopped dead in his tracks. "Oh dear, I didn't actually say that?"

"Man, you've got it bad!" Dean said, laughing.

"Let's keep focused, shall we?" said the Doctor, trying to maintain his dignity.

Dean wasn't about to let that happen. "Wow, you're like a thirteen year old girl with her first crush. Why don't you just man up and tell her how you feel?"

The Doctor stopped, turning to face Dean. "Right, one more word from you, and I'll bring up Castiel."

"What the hell is that supposed to mean?"

* * *

"Can you hear anything?" Sam whispered.

"Clanking?" Clara said, peering through the keyhole. "I think they're looking over some documents right now."

"You know what they're about?"

"Um… No," Clara paused, pressing her ear against the door. "Oh, hang on, now I hear footsteps… They're getting closer—oh."

The door opened, nearly causing Clara to fall over. She quickly regained her balance, and looked up to see a frowning Emersani.

"If asking you to leave and closing the door didn't quite make the message clear, I'd rather the two of you _not_ listen in," he said.

"Oh," Clara said. "See, I thought that might be what you were getting at. Must've misread the signals. Honest mistake though, right Sam?"

"You were a little ambiguous."

Emersani sighed.

"You two," he called. After a confused second, Sam and Clara turned around to see two robed figures passing through the other end of the hall. "I'd like it if you could escort Sam and Clara to a more suitable place for them to pass the time. Preferably somewhere very far away from this room."

The two men nodded, gently grabbing Sam and Clara by the arm. Emersani watched as the four of them marched off, finally closing the door only when they were out of sight.

Clara looked up at the man holding her arm. "How the hell did you manage to get in here?"

"Sonic screwdriver, a bit of theft, and psychic paper. How do I manage to get in anywhere?" he answered.

"Hold off the reunion till we make it outside," said Dean, still holding Sam's arm. "We stick around much longer, someone's gonna notice we don't belong here."

"We thought you guys were dead," Sam said.

"Did you? Really?" Dean said, raising his eyebrow.

"Well, okay, not really, but I was still worried."

Dean rolled his eyes, but the Doctor didn't fail to notice the tight grip Dean kept on his brother's arm, and the relief that had swept over him when he'd first seen his lit—um, younger brother safe and unharmed. The group managed to walk out of the building without much trouble, and soon found a secluded back alley so they could regroup.

"So, Clara, I'm afraid we're in quite a bit of trouble," the Doctor started, once he was sure no one would overhear them.

"Yeah, well nevermind that," Clara said. "Doctor, there's Cybermen on this planet!"

"Oh, that's what I was going to say," said the Doctor. "Well that's good, isn't it?

"Good?" Dean said, crossing his arms.

"Well, yes," the Doctor said cheerily. "Imagine if I had a different problem to Clara's. Then we'd have two problems."

"Considering the giant bubble surrounding this planet, I'd say we do," Clara said.

"Plus the TARDIS not taking off, that gets us up to three," Sam added.

"My count's around the fifteen range. You want me to list 'em?" Dean said.

"Are the three of you determined to be cynical about this?" the Doctor said with a pout. "Optimistically speaking, there's a strong likelihood that all of our problems are one in the same."

"And pessimistically speaking, that's one gigantic problem," said Dean.

"Yeah, well I was listening in on a meeting between the governor and a Cyberman," said Clara. The Doctor and Dean turned to her in shock. "And brace yourselves. Our problem is about to get a whole lot worse."

* * *

AN: Finally got around to writing again. Woohoo! I decided that Dean and the Doctor should have a little bonding time, so there's not a ton of plot in this chapter. But rest assured, I do know where the story is headed! Well, vaguely, but you should never do anything with certainty! I certainly don't, and- wait...


End file.
